


History Has Its Eyes On You

by staccato



Series: Harry Mikaelson [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:10:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6157683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato/pseuds/staccato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s seven minutes to eleven when Henrik steps out of the floo and onto the train platform.</p>
            </blockquote>





	History Has Its Eyes On You

It’s seven minutes to eleven when Henrik steps out of the floo and onto the train platform. 

The boy waves his wand, cleaning the soot off of his immaculate robes, and neatly dodges the loud family that has just appeared from a wall. Henrik drags his trunk behind him as he heads toward the bright and gleaming train, the crowd giving him a wide berth when they notice the snake wrapped around his torso. He had sent Hedwig ahead, as he know the owl would hate to be trapped in a cage for eight hours straight.

Henrik boards the train, lifting his trunk easily-a lightweight charm-and finds an empty compartment. He stows away his belongings, and locks the door-he has no interest in sharing the ride with a bunch of boisterous, rude children. Crona lifts her head as Henrik settles himself on the bench with a book. She slithers down his body and across the floor, curling up on the seat opposite of Henrik.

/Sleep, Crona./ Henrik suggests softly. /I will wake you when we arrive./

Crona hisses in agreement, and let her head rest on her body.

A few hours later, the compartment door suddenly slides open. Henrik glances up, eyes narrowing as he studies the intruder. He had locked the door with a spell, so the interloper seems to know at least some magic. Interesting. 

On the other side of the door is a girl, with wild and bushy brown hair. She is holding a wand in her right hand, and her left arm is held tightly by a round-faced boy. 

“He-Hermonine, you sh-shouldn’t do that. It’s n-not nice to-”

“Nonsense, Neville.” The girl says, and Henrik immediately notices her abnormally large front teeth. The newly dubbed Hermonine turns to address Henrik. “Have you seen a toad? Neville here has lost one.”

Henrik smiles widely, because the boy is right. It is extremely rude to barge in one’s compartment, especially if one had locked it with magic. Really, it is basic etiquette. This one must be a Mudblood. “Was that yours? Sorry, I didn’t know. Crona was hungry.” 

“Crona? Who’s Crona…” Hermonine trails off as her eyes land on the reptile sunbathing opposite of Henrik. “That’s a snake!”

Neville’s face grows pale. His hold on Hermonine tightens.

“Indeed.” Henrik agrees. 

Hermonine’s voice is a pitch higher when she speaks. “Students can only bring an owl, or a cat, or a toad.” She quotes haughtily.

“Crona and I are familiars.”

Neville gasps, taking a step back. His eyes flickers between Henrik and Crona.

The Mudblood frowns. “What are familiars?”

Henrik sighs. “Familiars are humans that have formed an intimate bond with animals, and vice versa. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of them before. After all, one Muggle stereotype is that familiars are demon spirits who serve witches. And you are a Mudblood, aren’t you?”

Then he waves a hand, and the door slams in front of two outraged faces.

A while later, Henrik feels the train slow. He puts away his book, and quickly changes into his Hogwart robes. Crona wraps herself around his waist, and Henrik conceals her body with his outer robe. When the train stops completely, Henrik is the first off of it, and follows the large figure bellowing loudly.

“First Years! First Years over here!”

Henrik scrunches his nose when he realize he is expected to ride in a dingy boat, but steps into it nevertheless. Three girls sits with him, and he ignores their attempt to include him in their conversation.

“Duck!”

When Henrik deems it safe enough to sit up straight, he is greeted with a beautiful sight. Hogwarts is humongous, with spiraling tower that seems to reach the sky. His fellow passengers “ooh” and “ahh” appropriately as the boat floats closer to the castle. Once everyone is on land again, the Groundskeeper, Hagrid, leads them into the building and tells them to wait in a small chamber. Neville finds his toad, and Hermonine glares at Henrik when she realizes she had been tricked.

A Professor McGonagall leads the students into the Great Hall, and Henrik is impressed by the charmed ceiling. They come to a stop in the dais. McGonagall places a stool in front of them, and sets a ratty hat on the seat. Then, a tear appears in the brim of the hat, and Henrik finds himself staring incredulously as the hat begins to sing.

Esther neglected to inform him of that.

Everyone cheers when it finishes, and McGonagall withdraws a scroll from the inner folds of her robes. “When I call your name, please step forward and sit on the stool to be sorted.”

More than two dozen students has been sorted when McGonagall finally announces, “Potter, Harry.”

The Hall falls silent as Henrik twists his way to the stool. He places himself gingerly on the seat, and McGonagall drops the hat on his head. The brim is wide enough to cover his eyes, yet Henrik can still feel the heavy gaze of both the student and faculty body. He refrains from jumping when a voice speaks inside his mind.

“Hmm.” The hat muses. “Difficult, very difficult.”

“Really?” Henrik thinks back. “I would have thought, with my lineage…”

“I do not sort children according to their blood, boy. I consider their traits and characteristics carefully, before placing them in a house that will define them for the rest of their life.” The hat snaps.

Henrik does not answer.

“Now then, what do we have here? Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either, talent-oh, my-and a nice thirst to prove yourself. That’s interesting. So where should I place you?”

“Where else?” Henrik snips back.

The hat chuckled. “Yes, yes, you could be great, and SLYTHERIN would help you on your way.”

Henrik hands the hat back to McGonagall, and walks to the silver table among polite clapping. The students sitting at his new house subtlety move and shift until the only spot available is at the edge of the bench, and oh, of course, Henrik realizes, he’s a half-blood, and the Potters were always Light. It is understandable why he would be an immediate outcast, at least until he proves himself to be a worthy snake.

Well, Henrik smirks as he strokes Crona fondly, that would be easy. Parseltongue is a highly valued skill, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Title Cred: History Has Its Eyes On You, from Hamilton


End file.
